Paranormal Activty

I love watching horror movies. Funny thing is, I can't even remember the last time that a horror movie actually scared me. I guess it would be the Sixth Sense, but all the drama towards the end kinda spoiled it for me. I liked the first few Saw movies, but only because of the creative gore they showed; they were in no way scary. When I was a kid, The Kiss and A Nightmare on Elm Street gave me nightmares, but i saw both films recently on cable and I can't believe I got scared of all the cheesiness i was seeing onscreen. The Exorcist (re-issue) or even the recent Exorcism of Emily Rose? Forget it. I was probably the only person laughing inside the cinema when both films were shown in theaters. I can appreciate a well made horror film, but I can't really remember the last time I was legitimately scared. Each new horror film comes with a great deal of hype, but when I'm actually watching the next horror sensation, I'm always left disappointed.

So here comes the latest hyped up horror movie, the indie sensation Paranormal Activity. When i saw the trailers showing the reaction of audiences, I immediately thought ---bullshit. But the media continued to hype up the movie, plus a lot of friends have been raving about how scary it is, that i actually thought of seeing it. The hype got the better of me, and I was so psyched. I tried to keep my expectations to a minimum so that i won't feel disappointed. And you know what? I still felt disappointed.

I appreciate how they were able to make such an atmospheric film for only a few thousand dollars. And I'm rooting for the filmmakers because their film is making millions at the box office without all that hollywood gloss that often only serve to spoil recent horror movies. Yeah some scenes are creepy, and they made it look so genuine, but something is still missing. i just wasn't scared, not even for a minute. Also I know that the mockumentary style adds to the realism that they were aiming for, but I'm just not a fan of it. After watching the movie, I didn't feel terrified. I only felt dizzy.

This is a good film overall, and we should definitely support such films from the indie scene. But like me, those looking for a good scare would only feel disappointed (unless you are one of those who get easily frightened). Either the film isn't scary at all, or I've become extremely desensitized to horror films because I've watched so many of them. Maybe that doesn't make this review reliable, maybe it does. I guess you can't take my word for it, you just have to see the movie and judge for yourself.

All Things Necessary

Today, we tried to get back to our usual Sunday schedule--- i.e. going to church, shopping at the mall, and eating dinner together as one family. For as long as I can remember, Sunday was Family day--- we can't have other plans on a Sunday. That was a cardinal rule. The only time I was excused from this was when I had to work on Sundays, and there was absolutely no way around it. My dad raised hell a few years back when i chose to attend a friend's birthday celebration over our weekly Sunday habit. If we had some other place to go, it should wait until the family dinner was over. I know how important family is, but there's a need to break away from the tedium once in a while. But I guess in his point of view, family affairs should never be viewed as tedious. And if we ever had to break away from the monotony, we can do it on some other day--- just not on a Sunday.

Since my grandma was in and out of the hospital, this weekly schedule was broken--- at least for the past few months. Since my grandmother's condition seemed to have stabilized, it was decided that we would try go to church together with her. The arsenal was complete--- the wheelchair with the portable oxygen can at the back was the armament of choice. We finished mass without a glitch--- after all, she only sat in her wheelchair the whole time. We planned to just go home and eat dinner after mass, but she said she wanted to buy new shoes for her birthday next week. We figured it would be okay--- after all, she's just going to sit in her wheelchair while window shopping. And when I looked at the shoes that she was wearing, i realized that she does need new shoes. The pair that she was wearing looked like something she had been wearing for years. I've never known her to be extravagant. I guess she got rich because she was extremely thrifty.

I actually found the shopping experience funny. She said she wanted to splurge because it has been a long time since she bought something for herself. Of course we obliged. It was her money, and we wanted to keep her happy. Off we went to the area inside the mall where the most expensive shops stood side by side. My eyes almost popped at the prices. A pair of shoes cost almost a thousand dollars. Some pairs cost even more. I wouldn't be caught dead buying anything so extravagant. If it was some piece of electronic equipment, I would understand. But for shoes, bags, or any piece of clothing, at that price?! It's not just impractical, it's also insensitive, considering these harsh times. But hey, who are we to deny her of her happiness.

So she picked a lot of shoes---- none of which fit because her feet were edematous. Even the largest sizes wouldn't fit. Frustrated, we tried the adjacent stores, but to no avail. We tried other shops, and finally we found several pairs that fit, but they were sold in a shop catering to the middle class. i could see that she wasn't really happy. She wanted those expensive shoes but none of them fit. She began acting like a child that didn't get what she wanted, i thought that she was about to throw a tantrum. She became grumpy and unreasonable. We tried hard to explain that we can't do anything about the situation. Out of frustration and exhaustion, she finally gave up. I know it wasn't amusing for her, but I had to control myself from laughing. It was actually pretty funny. There she was, with money to burn, yet she couldn't buy the shoes that she wanted.

And on the other end of the spectrum, here I am.

My salary is above minimum wage, but it's barely enough, even for my own needs. I could ask money from my parents and grandmother to make things easier, but at my age, my pride would definitely not allow me. My salary is just enough for my daily allowance for food, and to pay my monthly bills. I don't have unnecessary expenses--- at least not anymore. Still, there's barely enough left that I can spend for leisure. When I go out with friends, many times I feel a bit of shame because I often seem like a freeloader, even though they do it voluntarily. I just received my paycheck on the fifteenth of this month, and now it's almost gone. Each month there's not even enough left for savings. At times I even have to withdraw from my savings account at the bank, a few thousand bucks that i have accumulated back when I had a job with better pay--- a few thousand bucks that I swore never to touch unless in times of emergency. If i could barely get buy, i couldn't even imagine how many people could live with even less. Sure, they probably have less things that they deem necessary for daily living since they've been accustomed to a less extravagant way of life... but looking at the prices of even the most basic commodities today, a minimum wage wage earner would be hard pressed to make ends meet on his own. What more if he or she has to support a family. Money disappears all too quickly. It's like a block of ice on a hot summer day. If you turn around even for just a minute, if worst comes to worst, it would be all gone.

A few hours ago, as I went inside my car in the mall parking lot, i just sat down for awhile, without turning the engine on. I looked around. A few yards away, i could see several people--- men, women, and children, sifting through the waste bins. Looking for something--- maybe leftover food, may be something that can be reused and sold, maybe some of them are even hoping that they would find luck. Minutes later, a child screamed with joy, as she found something that looked liked a leftover sandwich, and she eagerly shared it with the others. Their smiles were genuine, and i could tell that at least in that single moment, they were happy. They were living miserable lives, yet even for a short while, they were happy. Simple pleasures. The mere act of fulfilling their basic needs equate to happiness. To some, happiness can be so fleeting. To some, happiness can be so hard to reach. Some people need wealth to be fulfilled. Some people need to be surrounded by extravagant possessions to be happy. And to some unlucky individuals, no amount of money can ever give them happiness. It's just never enough. A car passed by, and that shook me from my semi daydreaming state. One man who looked like the father of the children was carrying a broken stereo to his makeshift cart. His children were carrying some other scraps that they've found in the trash, probably hoping that they could trade some spare parts for cash. I noticed that it was getting dark, another day was about to end. Tomorrow, everyone will face another day, tomorrow is another day that we'll all try to get by. I'm better off than most, but still, I find it hard to get by. My basic needs are always attained, yet I still find it difficult to get by... i can hardly imagine how hard life can be for other people, especially for those who have close to nothing.

As I drove away, I could see the family pushing their cart into the sunset. That was a vision that I'll always remember. When the time comes that i have more to spare, i promise myself that I'll still remember. I swear i will never forget.

In The Midst of Twilight

I’m supposed to take an exam in L.A. in two weeks, yet I haven’t bought a plane ticket yet.

I am so confused right now. Ever get that feeling that just when you’ve thought you’ve finally figured out which path to take in life, something would suddenly occur that could possibly change your course entirely? My grandmother’s condition has been worsening. Yes, I know I’ve been blogging about it for months. I’m aware that I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but at this rate, I doubt if she would last another year. She can’t stand up for long, and she finds it hard to breath even when she’s just sitting still. She spends all day just watching TV or sleeping inside her room. She frequently needs oxygen support. In the rare occasions that we take her out, she has to be in a wheelchair. A few weeks ago she was confined for about two weeks in the intensive care unit, and when she was discharged from the hospital, just by looking at her, I though to myself the she shouldn’t even be discharged at all. That was the first time it happened. Yes, she’s been hospitalized almost monthly for the past two years, but she always seemed better by the time she was about to go home. This time, she looks like a time bomb waiting to explode. It’s as if we have to bring her back to the hospital any minute. That’s why I find it hard to leave. That’s why I’m thinking, maybe I should postpone my plans for a while.

Some people find it hard to understand why this is so damn hard for me. I grew up with my grandmother. For some reason, I was left with my grandparents when the rest of my family moved to another house. My dad said it was because they needed someone to keep them company. Partly, it was because I was my grandmother’s favorite grandchild. It was never said out loud, but it was glaringly obvious to anyone. Whereas she was strict with my siblings, often scolding them even for the littlest of things, she treated me like some sort of prince. She can be overly critical and impatient when it came to my sisters and to my brother, but to me, she was extremely tolerant. Any material thing that I asked, she would give immediately. I guess that’s why I was a spoiled brat as a child. I guess that’s why I was such a prick to my siblings when I was a child. I knew that even if I were the one at fault, I would never be blamed. I could get away with almost anything.

When I tried thinking about all the things that she has done for me, I don’t even know where to begin. I was never a morning person, and she was the one who woke me up every morning. Each morning I was like a heavily sedated patient, and she would drag me out of bed with all her strength, drag me towards the kitchen and even spoon fed me up until the age of 12, because I really felt like I was sedated. Afterwards she would drag me towards the bathroom, and she even gave me baths until the age of 11, until several anatomic changes made the exercise extremely embarrassing. She paid for my education, from elementary school until med school. She gave me my daily allowance, plus a whole lot of extras without even asking what they were for. Several times, I abused this privilege, saying I needed money for something important even though it was only for something trivial. Every time she went out, she made sure she had something for me when she came back. She was doing so many things for me, and I never realized it then.

Looking back at all those years, what makes it incredibly hard is the fact that I never seemed to show her how much I appreciated everything she did. I never showed her how grateful I am, I never showed her how much I loved her. During my teenage years when I was craving for independence, I even despised her, because she was overly protective. Several times, I have said hurtful words, and I never apologized afterwards. In my mind, I was right, and there was no need for me to say I was sorry. By the time I was mature enough to realize all of that, I realized that I have to give something in return. I went to med school partly because of her. She wanted to be a doctor, and she said she wanted me to be one--- to be the fulfillment of her dream, so to speak… even though I was uncertain, I obliged. I showed my love through little things… inexpensive gifts, some food I bought for her on my way home, and recently by monitoring her blood pressure daily and giving her intravenous medications whenever the need arises… but somehow, all those things never seemed enough to show how much I loved her. I would want to say it out loud, but I was never the expressive type. Even when I would simply want to reach out and spend some time talking to her, I couldn’t find the words. We spend each moment in awkward silence. While growing up, I never tried to reach out, I only received and never gave. That’s why we can’t find anything to talk about… she was the omnipresent figure in my life, yet strangely, I never got to know her. She was my grandmother, and that’s it.

Sometimes, I don’t even understand myself. In my mind I say that I love her, yet my actions seems to say otherwise. I get irritated when I need to continuously monitor her blood pressure when I’m preoccupied with something else. I get irritated when I have to cancel plans and stay home whenever her condition worsens. I get easily annoyed when she keeps on saying the same things again and again, I get pissed when her caregiver wakes me up in the middle of the night when her condition deteriorates. I hate the extreme pressure given to me by the whole family when it comes to concerns with her health. These are only little things, but when my selfish side rears its ugly head, I become unreasonable. I become aloof, I become indifferent. And moments later when I realize what I had done, I would feel sorry for myself. But then, it will be already too late. Even when I try to make amends, the damage has been done. To her, I would seem so ungrateful. To her, it seemed that I do not care. All that she would ask of me are nothing compared to all the sacrifices that she has done for me. I could see the hurt in her eyes. But even then, she would quickly turn a blind eye as soon as she feels better. Because I was her favorite grandchild, she would quickly forget. I guess that’s what they call unconditional love.

Give or take two years, that was what her physician said. Two years to live is actually generous, considering her present condition. Looking at her as she silently slept in the hospital bed all those nights that I stayed with her made me see things in the proper perspective. She gave me so much, and I hardly gave back. Early this year, I figured I would try my luck working abroad. Because the pay is better--- that’s the primary reason. But it’s not for selfish pursuits. My plan was to work hard and send money back home, or pay for her caretaker, or even a private nurse… so I could finally give something back. My siblings have been helping her financially for years now, and being the eldest, I feel so useless. The fact that I still depend on her for my major expenses makes me feel so pathetic. At her age, she shouldn’t be supporting me anymore. I should be the one supporting her. Sure, I’m here to keep her company, I’m here to monitor her blood pressure and make sure she takes her medications… but I never felt that all those were enough. I had to give so much more. But then her condition took a turn for the worse, and I’m starting to doubt if I could work abroad and proceed with my plans. I doubt if she would ever see the day that I’m finally independent, and our roles would finally be in reverse. She would no longer take care of me. I’ll be the one who will take care of her.

Now I’m thinking of postponing my plans for residency for a while. It would take at least three years to finish residency training, and I would hate if it she passes away when I’m not around. I would hate myself for it. On the other hand, says my practical side… I can’t keep on postponing my plans. What if she lives for more than two years, even five… I can’t keep on postponing my plans, and basing everything on something that isn’t definite, can I? It really sucks the way life can be so unpredictable. Just when you thought you’ve finally got it all figured out, something comes a long that fucks everything up. If only life was a one way street, things wouldn’t be so complicated. If time won’t allow me to proceed with my plan, if time won’t give me the opportunity to repay her for all the things she has done, then I guess the only way to show her my appreciation, and how sorry I am for all the pain that I have caused her, is to remain by her side all throughout the remaining days of her life.

I know that still isn’t enough to show how much I love the person who has loved me with all her heart in spite of myself… but life is such a bitch. At this point in time, when my net worth is close to nothing, with tears flowing from my eyes, I regretfully say… for now, that is all that I can give.

Misconstrued

Sunday night, went to my cousin's party. Met one of her friends, and then there was instant attraction. There was a connection, and we spent hours talking about nothing. Half past twelve, everyone decided to call it a night, and since she didn't have a car, I offered to take her home.

No words were explicitly spoken, but I knew that she knew what I wanted, and i knew that she understood my terms. We were on the same page. Instead of going straight to her house, i made a quick detour. Before we went in, just to make things clear, I told her that all i wanted was something casual--- no commitments, no attachments. I wasn't ready for anything more than that. And as I expected, she agreed. She didn't back out.

It was funny. At the very beginning it was explosive, then halfway through, things started to fizzle out. Maybe it was the alcohol, but somehow, we became too exhausted to move. We both laughed. Then we just cuddled. We began to talk about trivial things at first. Then we talked about work, about family, about future plans, our dreams, about personal problems--- things that you might share with a close friend, with your girlfriend... definitely things you wouldn't talk about with someone you've just met, let alone with someone you're only having a casual encounter with. But there was that connection, and words kept on flowing. We shared so many things, and I felt that I was with someone I actually trust and cared about. And on hindsight, that was the biggest mistake that I made that night: I showed my sensitive side.

Afterward we even had a snack outside, before I took her home. Yup, there was the promise to keep in touch, but promises are understood to be half meant in casual events. The morning after, I received a text message. That was fine, i replied. Honestly, I think that I have gained a new friend out of that experience, no matter how unexpected that may seem... but there's nothing more than that. I didn't want to take it any further. But then the text messages increased in frequency... messages about trivial matters, then messages asking how i was doing, sent mere hours apart from each other. At first I was indifferent, but then I became annoyed. The messages grew in rapid succession, that I found myself too lazy to even give a perfunctory reply out of courtesy. Then she was asking why I wasn't replying to her messages, why it took me so long to reply, why wouldn't I call her. Jesus Christ. Isn't it obvious why i wasn't calling her?! Why should I?! From the very beginning, I told her that all I wanted was something casual. i wasn't looking for a relationship. Now she seems like an overly clingy girlfriend. I guess it was all my fault. Even when you say it out loud, as long as you show your sensitive side, women would think that you're not saying what you really mean--- even when you are saying what you really mean. When I showed that I understood her, I guess she saw me as a potential best friend, or the ideal boyfriend. And what sucks the most? I know that the easiest way to get rid of her is to act like an asshole. Problem is, I find it hard to act like an asshole when I know that I could hurt someone else's feelings. I could just ignore her and hope that she'll eventually get tired, but what does that make of me? And what if she's not one of those girls who can easily get the message?

Ugh. Good thing I'll be leaving in a few weeks. All this will be moot when I'm out of here.

Tweet Tweet

I just realized that I have been neglecting my Blogger account. Partly because there's not much happening in my life lately... Also, I haven't been really pissed lately--- which is a good thing. But since this blog serves as my "piss blog", that would also explain the paucity of entries. Add the fact that with all the work and studying that I have been doing lately, it's hard to find some quiet alone time, which is essential for me to compose a sensible (or at least partly sensible) blog entry. It usually takes me about one to two hours to create one of my better entries (i.e. not those filler entries that I have been posting in increasing frequency these past few months), and I no longer have that luxury.

However, elsewhere on the internet, my ideas are alive and well. Sometime last month, I discovered Twitter. I used to ignore Twitter, no matter how ubiquitous it got. I mean, what can i possibly do with an account that only allowed you to post status updates? I can do that in Facebook, which has been around much longer than Twitter. And with the 140 character limit, it is pretty much useless. How can a person cram anything with much sense in just 140 characters?! And I used to think it only caters to those fame whores. You know, the type of people who always seek attention, and they get extreme gratification when they get so many followers. They are also the shepherds you encounter in those social networking sites. You know, those who keep adding people they barely know, even those people they don't know, because it would bloat their friends list, creating the illusion that they are popular. I used to think that Twitter catered to those who are obsessed with popularity, and I would never be caught dead creating a Twitter account... until I gave in to peer pressure, like I always do. So yeah, I made a Twitter account, and I was sure that i would never ever update it after making that single entry.

But you know me... In every lull moment, more than a dozen thoughts would immediately zip through my mind. Often, those thoughts would fade fast, but at times they would persist, and they would lead to a possible poem, a short story, or a blog entry--- as soon as i find the time to write it down. But with Twitter, all I needed was a cellphone, which I always had with me... without realizing it, I kept on posting short messages... not really status updates, but more like pockets of ideas. And before I knew it, I already had two hundred Tweets.

What I like even more is the fact that somehow, my Twitter account still gives me that certain degree of anonymity, and that is essential for me to post my thoughts freely--- like I do in this blogger account. Sure, I use my real name there, but there's no other information. Even the picture I've uploaded is non recognizable... it only shows my silhouette. Add the fact that most of the people who know me are still not aware that I have a Twitter account that I regularly update. One reason that I don't post status updates in Facebook anymore is because it has become cluttered with people whom I barely know, but whose friend requests I could not easily ignore. Yes, i would considered these people as more than acquaintances, but I don't trust them enough to be comfortable enough to spill my innermost thoughts in my status updates. Either i censor my thoughts, or not post anything at all. That's why for now, Twitter is like a breath of fresh air. Suddenly, I feel free again.

But since my Blogger account offers the greatest degree of anonymity, there's no way I'm forgetting about this account. I've been itching to create another one of those emotional entries, and I would do so as soon as time would allow.

In the meantime, I'm heading over to the Tweet Deck. :)